


The Machine is Fixed

by Zorua_Illusion



Series: Cheer Up the Skeleton 2k16 [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cheer Up the Skeleton 2k16, less skelebros and more skeledad, the whole skelefamily needs some love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 01:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5987032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorua_Illusion/pseuds/Zorua_Illusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, that was unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Machine is Fixed

Friday: The Machine is Fixed

Well, that was unexpected.

 

Sans didn’t know why he kept that damn thing. Correction: he knew why he had kept it, but he can’t make sense of why he has it _now._

Underground, his notes would survive RESETS and LOADS if he put them in the machine. He had put a shortcut from his pocket that lead to the interior of the machine at one point that let his notes survive.

But Frisk had prevailed, using love instead of LOVE, and they whole monster crew had been above ground for five years, seven months, one week, five days. (He had a calendar.) What Sans was trying to figure out was why it was currently in his science shed that was located behind the split house he, Papyrus, Toriel, and Frisk all shared. Frisk had promised not to RESET or LOAD unless _absolutely_ necessary, and neither of those had happened in years. So why does he still have it?

Sans threw the tarp up over the machine again. Too many questions and not enough answers- sounds like a normal day. He left shortly afterwards, having nothing else to do.

 

Under the tarp, the machine whirred quietly, little lights in the left socket glowing like they once had many, many years before. Sans’s notes fluttered from the breeze created by the fans. Then it stopped.

 

Sans came back the next day. He removed the tarp and placed a single picture in the machine’s right socket compartment. But something was wrong.

The machine had always, always been cold due to it never powering up. So… why was it warm now? It had been on the surface for years and had never gotten this warm, so… why now?

Sans refused to let his hopes get up. He checked the machine, but other than that, nothing was different. Sans sighed, partially in relief and partially in disappointment. He left shortly afterwards, leaving the shed in moonlight.

Later, if you looked for it, you would see a faint hand brush over the machine, pausing on the photograph.

 

Days passed in a similar manner. Sans would show up sometimes, check on the machine, and find no difference. He would either leave then or tinker. Even rarer, he would have Frisk or Alphys with him, the former because they needed help with science homework and the latter to either actually work or just dink around and watch anime on Alphys’s laptop.

Less often than even those visits were the times when Sans would leave items in the machine’s drawer- notes of nightmares and dreams, and little items he wanted to hold onto forever, no matter what (a seashell from Frisk, a recipe for hot dog buns from Toriel that was simply divine, and other various things.)

Each night, the hand would come back. As time went on, the hand became an arm, a torso, another arm, both legs, and finally, the head was losing transparency.

Days passed, then weeks, then months in this fashion.

Eventually, Sans sensed something was wrong. Things in his lab had been moved- only slightly, but Sans was meticulous in certain aspects of his life- and he wasn’t the one who did it. His shed wasn’t a secret, and was hardly hard to access, but no one except him had been inside recently. It wasn’t robbers, either, as nothing was missing. There was only one being it could be, but… years had passed and nothing happened. So… why now?

“What are you up too, old man?” Sans questioned aloud, not really expecting an answer, so he was surprised when he heard the distinct scratch of pen on paper.

He turned when it had finished and found a note written in his father’s handwriting.

_I… have no answers. Have you told someone about me?_

“The kid found the Underground version of this-” Sans gestured to the lab “-and… well, curiosity killed the cat.”

 _Given their determination to save everyone…_ there wasn’t anything else. There didn’t need to be.

“… I don’t get it,” Sans stated flatly, “how can determination bring you back?”

_You’ve been storing items from them in this machine, right?_

“Yeah, what about it? I’ve stored stuff like that in there for years."

_Not like this._

“What?” Sans took the shell out, since it was the topmost item, and examined it closely, finding nithing unusual.

_Look with magic._

Sans blinked, his eye glowing a dull colbalt as he examined the shell again. Now he could see it- faint traces of magic that was unfamiliar to him.

_Humans used magic a long time ago… perhaps the stability of surface magic is powering the machine, and thus stabilizing me?_

“No… this magic is newer. Humans abandoned old magic a long time ago, but witches still exist according to a friend. They deal mostly in topside objects, like herbs, shells, though gemstones are used for protection and health. Besides, Tori says that the old magic traces that used to be here are long gone.”

_Fascinating… do you think the human child selected this on purpose?_

Sans thought about it. “Honestly? No. They might’ve known they were drawn to it for some reason, but to them it probably just looked like a pretty shell. But because they’re been around so much magic, it might be that the residue leaked onto them, and from there to this shell, which might’ve been used by a witch who abandoned it for whatever reason.”

_Perhaps, if more items are anchored like this…_

“Think you could come back?” Sans’s voice was a lot smaller than he’d have liked it to be, but…

_It is possible. The Void is everything as much as it is nothing, so I don’t see the harm in trying should more objects be found._

“Should I tell the kiddo?”

_Up to you; you’re the one who told them about me. Perhaps they can handle this as well._

Silence reigned before Sans spoke again. “It’s… nice to talk with you again. Even if I can’t hear you. Or see you, really.”

_It’s nice to be able to talk with you as well… and it’s easier to see me at night, I’ve found._

“Anyway, you can pick up a pen. Think eating’s beyond you?”

_For now, yes. I do not feel hunger here… nor much of anything else. I can’t tell if I’m phasing through the floor or not._

Sans snorted- an odd, high pitched whistling through his nasal cavity- in response. “I’d pay to see that.”

_Be careful what bets you take…_

“you’re totally phasing through it right now aren’t you?”

… _Yes._

Sans burst into laughter.

 

Sans did tell Frisk, who then drug him along on several Friday afternoons, both of them searching for abandoned magic items. Their finds were infrequent, but they did find a few things- geodes, pendants, and rocks that were pocket sized.

Sans even called one of the Musketeers- a friend of Papyrus that he hung out with on occasion- and asked him if he knew any witches with enchanted objects they’d be okay in giving up, or even making.

“I know one of them sells some of their witch gear. Anything specific?”

“Anything that won’t react violently to monster magic residue.”

“So, no. I’ll see what she’s willing to give.”

A bag with four gem-like rocks came in the mail a week later with a note.

_This is what she gave me, and she wished your father well. She wouldn’t tell me what she meant by that._

Sans blinked, surprised. A lucky guess? It didn’t really matter.

Frisk would take the objects, and since they lived with monsters and magic was used on and around them frequently, magical residue stuck to them and mixed with their DETERMINATION. Depending on the day and events, Frisk would be able to consciously put more or less of the determination into the objects they had received. They would then hand them off to Sans who would put them in the machine.

 

It was during this process that Sans told Papyrus about Gaster. Papyrus had, like everyone else, forgotten what few memories he had of the elder skeletal monster after Gaster had fallen into the CORE.

Papyrus was silent as the information sank in, worrying Sans a little. Papyrus was meant to be loud, so silence was disconcerting.

“We… have a dad? And I just… forgot him?” Papyrus’s voice was small. Sans was quick to reassure him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Paps… it’s just the nature of how it happened, we’re assuming. You… wouldn’t really remember much of him anyway, he fell when you were just a baby bones.”

Papyrus pulled Sans into a hug, which was returned. “Can I meet him?”

Sans thought about it for all of one second before saying “I’m sure he’d love nothing more.”

 

So the next day, Papyrus and Gaster “talked” as Sans watched. It was a bit odd to see Papyrus talking to what appeared to be nothing, but the scratch of the pen and Papyrus’s look of concentration as he tried to make out the near- illegible scribbles was endearing and relaxing, and so Sans fell asleep.

 

He woke up to Frisk poking him and holding a Petoskey stone they had found that had magic running along the pattern. He blinked and examined it with his eye glowing, finding that the pattern was glowing slightly red with determination. That was more than he had ever seen from the child, and looked at them questioningly.

_The thought that this might be the object to help bring your dad back… it filled me with enough DETERMINATION to SAVE… but with the power I had, why not SAVE something else?_

Sans pulled Frisk in for a hug. “Right you are, kiddo. Let’s go put this into the machine, eh? Maybe then it’ll get all _geared up_.”

 _B minus,_ Frisk signed as they went into the shed via shortcut.

“They can’t all be winners,” Sans shrugged.

The pen scratching resumed with a new pen- Gaster’s conversation with Papyrus had used up all the ink, so the younger brother had fetched a new one- and Sans read the note aloud after noticing the “S+F” written at the top.

_Are you plaguing people’s lives with incidental puns again?_

“Like you were any better, old man. Besides, they’re hardly incidental. Do you know how much time thinking up a good pun takes? Let me tell you, it takes-”

 _SANS STOP_ Frisk signed while grinning.

“- a _skele_ -ton.”

 _(Groan)_  was both written and signed at him.

_That was bad. Even for your terribly low standards._

“Anyway, not why we’re here.” Sans strode over to the machine and dropped the Petoskey stone in the drawer.

Suddenly, the drawer grew red, and the machine violently whirred to life. Sans pushed his magic out, yanking a thick, protective sheet of Plexiglas from where it was stored in case of emergencies in front of Frisk, quickly ducking behind it himself. The drawer lit up like circuitry, and Sans heard a groan.

He watched as the graph in the maw adjusted in real time to the snapping and bending of time lines as they changed and adjusted around Gaster.

Sans turned his attention from the machine that was slowly powering down and towards his father.

The skeletal monster was holding his head, but he was opaque and standing (actually on the floor).

“…dad?”

Gaster blinked. And blinked again. “Remind me to not get erased from timelines again.”

“Hey dad?”

"Hm?" Gaster looked up to see his son giving a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t get erased from timelines again.”

Gaster laughed and pulled his eldest son into a hug. Sans grasped back near desperately, tears of joy falling from his sockets.

Frisk smiled. They’d let Gaster and Sans have their moment before getting Papyrus.

**Author's Note:**

> ... So I'm a fan of skeledad. Sue me. More skelebros tomorrow, promise.  
>  Part of teffyjeffy's "Cheer Up the Skeleton" prompt on tumblr. Friday's prompt was "the Machine is Fixed".


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